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There was something about the knitted patchwork blanket that made Leanne feel treasured. It had accompanied her on relocations that had happened over the years, even to warmer destinations where it would rarely be needed. Just having it nearby seemed to help on those days when things weren’t going right.

The blanket was made up of large squares, mainly in plain stitch, and in a wide variety of colours. Some patches were made with wool that had been dyed in contrasting tones, which seemed to draw the eye. It was soft, well-worn, and it always made her heart a little lighter to reach out and touch it.

One of Leanne’s aunts had shown her how to stitch over the school holidays. Leanne could recall the click-clack of the needles, and learning how to get the tension just right to be able to turn the work and knit another row. There had been many false starts and dropped stitches, but Leanne persevered. She might never be able to knit a jumper, but the patches were manageable.

After several years of intermittent knitting, there was a pile of squares waiting for a purpose. Leanne’s grandmother suggested a blanket. Together, they laid out the patches in rows to match and offset the different colours. Then her grandmother showed her how to join the patches, row by row, until the blanket started to grow. Eventually, it was large enough for a double bed, and together they worked on edging the blanket to help keep its shape. 

Leanne can still recall the first time the finished blanket was laid out on a bed, how she’d reached out for her grandmother’s hand and felt the warmth of her touch. Her Nana isn’t here anymore, but the blanket is a reminder of their special bond and the memories that they made together. 

I’m participating in this blogging challenge for the month of January, which supports starting the year on the “write” track. You can find other posts with #bloganuary and join in the challenge.

Photo: knitted display in a shop window

Can you share a positive example of where you’ve felt loved?